


The Wind Before the Rain

by dirtyicicles



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Sad Ending, a little break from what i've been writing so, drabbles that hurt really, ignis struggles with a new life, no plot kind of either, noctis is dead, warm up prose kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:57:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9850493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtyicicles/pseuds/dirtyicicles
Summary: this is unbeta'd, considering it's kind of a stress writing thing more than anything. but i hope you enjoy it!





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is unbeta'd, considering it's kind of a stress writing thing more than anything. but i hope you enjoy it!

Life after the darkness was like living in a world where the wind blew in the wrong direction, where the sun rose in the west instead of the east, and the grass was blue instead of green. It was the same, but there were those subtle changes that Ignis couldn't see. Changes he allowed to haunt him, into the dead of night and into the early morning hours where terrible habits deprived of sleep formed themselves. 

Where schedule and normalcy used to breed and rest in peace, jagged motions that were an afterimage of every day care instead took over with their teeth pressed into his flesh. The last ten years had a purpose, a diligence he'd formed at any hour of the day to make sure he was ready and prepared for that one fateful day. It was easier than he had anticipated, coming to terms with a disability and learning to rise from the ashes even after so much strife and heartbreak. 

What hadn't been easy was the arrival of that day, at long last. Noctis had come back into his life aged and all the wiser, speaking words of sacrifice and pain. But nonetheless, each kind word he held for his friends, his lover, held nothing but the utmost compassion and admiration. Ignis had hated it, truth be told. Noctis had grown into a fine King, a ruler who would have done well and served his land and his people and gave them everything he had to offer. He'd grown into this man without Ignis at his side, leaving him behind in the dust as it ate the light. 

Ignis wasn't bitter. If anything, he was proud. He'd always known he couldn't be there for Noctis, and he knew the man's life calling from a young age. King Regis had explained it to him in a quiet room on a dusky day, his usually soothing voice broken with hardly contained sobs as he recounted the prophecy and its meaning. 

So Ignis had known. Yet he had allowed himself to get close to Noctis, to let the boy break down any wall he'd been determined on building around his heart. Noctis had never known, not until the day the crystal had whisked him away in violent colors. It was cruel, and Ignis had debated on explaining it to him many times over the years, but he refrained. He had refrained from doing a lot of things, in hindsight. 

He never said no to Noctis's advances. He never said no to Noctis's confessions. He never said no when Noctis needed help, and he never said no when it came to cooking and cleaning for the boy. Ignis had always been there, not because of the grace in his heart, but for the love he held within himself for his prince, his King. 

So when that fateful day came, it _hurt._ It was like something physical, reaching out to Ignis and taking him by the chest. It dragged him around by the tendons underneath his skin, claws wrapped around the fragile porcelain of his bones, claws pricking at his weak and fluttering heart. That day had been like a dream with a constant reminder he had to wake up. A constant reminder that refused to let him enjoy what little time he had left with the love of his life. It refused to even make the memory bittersweet. 

It was just bitter. Everything since that day had been so, so bitter. 

Ignis was left as a lifeless husk of a man, no purpose in the world offered to him as he wandered. His once clear path was just endlessly dark, offering no comfort or sense of direction on where he must go. What was once lined with sylleblossoms was lined with nothing but corpses and the stench of death, a ghost ever by his side. Silent, flickering in and out of existence. A ghost of what was, and what could have been. It was good company.

A spring breeze used to blow through their old apartment. Refreshing, uplifted with the scent of gentle blossoms and full of life. Ignis had found himself back in it after the restoration efforts of Insomnia were underway and mostly finished. It had taken a few years to get the city and the planet back to some semblance of a normal life, but once it had reached that point, it was almost like nothing had changed. The scourge of years past was just a story now, a story that was avoided when possible. A memorial for their King of Light was erected somewhere in the city's center, and Ignis always found himself near it on morning or nightly walks. 

Where the gentle thaw and rolling thunder would pass through their apartment, the cold, unforgiving stiffness of ice and snow was the only thing it had left to offer these days. Everything felt unfamiliar. Their old belongings were long gone, making way for the few, newer necessities Ignis had replaced them with. Slowly but surely he had replaced an old life, a life lost to his own memories that never made it past his throat. 

All on his own, Ignis strove for a different life. He did his best to forget Noctis, and to forget the life he had with him. In the past, Ignis had lived for the prince; but now it was the present, and he had to learn to live for himself. 

Something that was much easier said than done. Ignis had picked up a political position in time of Insomnia's need, something he'd done willingly. It kept him fed and comfortable, and during the work hours, it kept him distracted. Being blind was hard enough, but when you were blind with not much else to offer comfort or something else to focus on, it was easy to lose oneself in the turmoil of everything lost. 

But with hard work and meticulous dedication to his new life, Ignis prevailed. While his thaw never came to the endless cold in his apartment, it had become easier to live with over time. Gladio and Prompto still kept in touch with him, offering the sporadic visit here and there and making sure he treated himself well on his birthday. 

Noctis was forgotten, for the most part. Either that, or no one just wanted to talk about him any longer. After all, he was a piece of history now, nothing more than brave, selfless deeds recounted on paper and stone. 

Which was just as fine. Somewhere along the line Ignis had taken comfort in the warmth of the sun instead. He turned his face towards it in the mornings, basking in the gentle rays as they caressed his tired features and kept his coffee warm. He was 35 now, just an aging man with a cat he'd allowed into his apartment. Prompto told him it was a little black cat. Ignis had named it Noct despite himself. 

Ignis liked to think he was strong these days. Despite wandering a road with no real destination, he was determined to move on. And so he had, and he had, and he walked and he walked and he _lived._

He went to bed every night, but sleep always came at different hours. There was one hour in particular he tended to avoid, but on this night, he found himself drifting off around it nonetheless. He still dreamed vividly, and he dreamt of many things. Some of the images were comforting, vanishing behind his eyelids every morning, always remaining just out of reach. 

They were sometimes of Noctis. Noctis seemed so _real_ sometimes, too. He'd always be there in the middle of the meadow with a carpet of sylleblossoms, waiting for Ignis to join him where he sat. He always sat underneath a great big tree, with gnarled branches that rose high into the heavens. Ignis joined him underneath various shades of changing leaves, and they would talk. 

Ignis could see Noctis, too. He could see a beautifully aged, handsome face laced with playful stubble. He'd chastise his lover about it, but when they kissed, it tickled his skin and it felt good. Ignis was always so happy when Noctis came to him like this. It was all so real, and Noctis was so warm in his arms, and his voice was so clear in his ears. They would talk and they would talk, and Noctis would look at Ignis with nothing but love and care in his beautiful, dark eyes. 

Ignis always clung to those eyes for as long as he could manage. But it was always far too soon the image would fade, and the warm sun would be on his face and he would awake. 

Ignis reached up with trembling hands to wipe at his eyes, to catch the onslaught of tears that had started long before he had awoken. He could still feel Noctis's hands on his, sliding up his arms to caress his cheeks. But as Ignis sat there, the image of a dream so real faded into nothing, and Ignis was left alone with his despair as he cried long and hard into his hands.


End file.
